“‘One word more,’ sais you, ‘and I have done. If your army officers out there, get leave of absence, do you stop their pay?’
“‘No.’
“‘Do you sarve native colonists the same way?’
“‘No, we stop half their salaries.’
“‘Exactly,’ sais you, ‘make them feel the difference. Always make a nigger feel he is a nigger, or he’ll get sassy, you may depend. As for patronage,’ sais you, ‘you know as well as I do, that all that’s not worth havin’, is jist left to poor colonist. He is an officer of militia, gets no pay and finds his own fit out. Like Don Quixote’s tailor, he works for nothin’ and finds thread. Any other little matters of the same kind, that nobody wants, and nobody else will take; if Blue-nose makes interest for, and has good luck, he can get as a great favour, to conciliate his countrymen. No, Minister,’ sais you, ‘you are a clever man, every body sais you are a brick; and if you ain’t, you talk more like one, than any body I have seen this while past. I don’t want no office myself, if I did p’raps, I wouldn’t talk about patronage this way; but I am a colonist, I want to see the colonists remain so. They are attached to England, that is a fact, keep them so, by making them Englishmen. Throw the door wide open; patronise them; enlist them in the imperial sarvice, allow them a chance to contend for honours and let them win them, if they can. If they don’t, it’s their own fault, and cuss ‘em they ought to be kicked, for if they ain’t too lazy, there is no mistake in ‘em, that’s a fact. The country will be proud of them, if they go ahead. Their language will change then. It will be our army, the delighted critters will say, not the English army; our navy, our church, our parliament, our aristocracy, &c., and the word English will be left out holus-bolus, and that proud, that endearin’ word “our” will be insarted. Do this, and you will shew yourself the first statesman of modern times. You’ll rise right up to the top of the pot, you’ll go clean over Peel’s head, as your folks go over ourn, not by jumpin’ over him, but by takin’ him by the neck and squeezin’ him down. You ‘mancipated the blacks, now liberate the colonists and make Englishmen of them, and see whether the goneys won’t grin from ear to ear, and shew their teeth, as well as the niggers did. Don’t let Yankee clockmakers, (you may say that if you like, if it will help your argument,) don’t let travellin’ Yankee clockmakers tell such stories, against your justice and our pride as that of the Prince de Joinville and his horse.’”
CHAPTER VII. LIFE IN THE COUNTRY.
“Here,” said Mr. Sick, “is an invitation for you and me, and minister to go and visit Sir Littleeared Bighead, down to Yorkshire. You can go if you like, and for once, p’raps it’s worth goin’ to see how these chaps first kill time, and then how time kills them in turn. Eatin’, drinkin’, sleepin’, growlin’, fowlin’, and huntin’ kills time; and gout, aperplexy, dispepsy, and blue devils kills them. They are like two fightin’ dogs, one dies of the thrashin’ he gets, and t’other dies of the wounds he got a killin’ of him. Tit for tat; what’s sarce for the goose, is sarce for the gander.
“If you want to go, Minister will go with you; but hang me if I do. The only thing is, it’ll puzzle you to get him away, if he gets down there. You never see such a crotchical old critter in your life as he is. He flies right off the handle for nothin’. He goes strayin’ away off in the fields and gullies, a browsin’ about with a hammer, crackin’ up bits of stones like walnuts, or pickin’ up old weeds, faded flowers, and what not; and stands starin’ at ‘em for ever so long, through his eye-glass, and keeps a savin’ to himself, ‘Wonderful provision of natur!’ Airth and seas! what does he mean? How long would a man live on such provision, I should like to know, as them bitter yarbs.
“Well, then, he’ll jist as soon set down and jaw away by the hour together with a dirty-faced, stupid little poodle lookin’ child, as if it was a nice spry little dog he was a trainin’ of for treein’ partridges; or talk poetry with the galls, or corn-law with the patriots, or any thing. Nothin’ comes amiss to him.